Chapter 3: The Woman Who Sent the Message
Victoria did not move.
She stood at the far end of the hallway, her eyes fixed on Ethan's phone.
"Who sent that?" she asked.
"I don't know yet."
"Give me the phone, Ethan."
"No."
Her voice shifted — not louder, but sharper.
"I said give me the phone."
"And I said no." He turned away from her and walked back into the nursery.
"Rose."
The maid looked up from the rocking chair.
She was still holding the baby, one hand curved around the back of his small head.
"Yes, sir."
"Stay in this room tonight.
Lock the door.
Don't open it for anyone except me."
Rose nodded once.
She didn't ask why.
She already knew.
Ethan pulled the nursery door shut behind him and stood in the hallway, staring at the message on his screen.
The number had no name attached to it.
He typed back two words: *Who are you?*
The reply came in less than a minute.
*Someone who tried to warn you before the wedding.
You didn't listen then.
Please listen now.
She is not safe around that child.
Meet me tomorrow.
I'll send the address.*
Ethan read it twice.
Then he walked downstairs.
Victoria was already in the kitchen.
She had poured herself a glass of water and was standing at the counter with her back to him.
Her shoulders were straight.
Her breathing was controlled.
She looked like a woman who had already decided what she was going to say next.
"I want to explain," she said, without turning around.
"Then explain."
She turned.
Her eyes were dry.
"The iron slipped.
I was pressing his blanket — I wanted everything clean for the morning — and it slipped.
That's all it was."
"The iron was six inches from his face, Victoria."
"I pulled it back the moment I realized—"
"Rose said you were holding it toward him.
Not toward the blanket."
Victoria set the glass down.
"Rose has never liked me.
You know that.
She's been looking for a reason to turn you against me since the day we got married."
"She's worked in this house for eleven years."
"And she's been in love with her position in it for just as long.
I'm the one thing standing between her and full control of this household, and you know it."
Ethan said nothing.
He looked at her for a long moment — the composed face, the steady hands, the way she held his gaze without blinking.
"There's a mark on the sofa," he said.
"From the iron.
Right where the baby was sitting."
"I told you, it slipped—"
"The mark is on the armrest.
The baby was in the center of the cushion.
If the iron slipped, it would have fallen forward.
Not sideways onto the armrest."
Victoria's mouth opened.
Then it closed.
"I'm going to bed," she said.
"We can talk about this when you're not looking for reasons to believe the worst of me."
She walked past him toward the stairs.
Her shoulder nearly brushed his.
She didn't look back.
Ethan stood in the kitchen alone.
He looked down at his phone again.
The unknown number had sent one more message while he was talking to Victoria.
*She did the same thing to her first husband's child.
The little girl was two years old.
Look up what happened to her.*
May you like
His hand tightened around the phone.
He hadn't known Victoria had been married before.
